A Beautiful Escape
by winterguns
Summary: This is a story about the tragic life of Edith Crawley, and how she struggles to fit in until she finds the perfect escape.
1. Chapter 1

Edith Crawley's life has been nothing short of tragic. Though born into a wealthy family, she grew up largely forgotten as her prettier sisters took the spotlight. Lost, forgotten and facing an unhappy future, she seeks an escape~drugs.

* * *

Her earliest memory consists of looking into a mirror and being frightened of the little girl on the other side - the gloomy eyes and the sharp nose and ginger hair that never behaved. How awful to be born ugly; what undue penance. The memory grows worse when on that grey September afternoon her sisters appear out-of-nowhere, their reflections joining hers. Sybil is still a small child and prone to bluntness; Mary is eight years old, frighteningly pale despite the long summer.

The ginger child in the mirror is already unconsciously comparing her reflection to the others when Sybil announces, "We're playing make-believe! Edith you're the troll."

Mary puts a hand over her youngest sister's mouth in mock horror, except it's not mock because Mary is incapable of being anything but serious. She admonishes, "Sybil, don't be so unkind! Edith can't help being ghastly." Edith horrified, escapes the mirror. Without intending to, she finds herself running blindly through the halls. Occasionally she will run into a maid though this hardly slows her down. She finds the nursery and crawls onto the window seat, sobbing herself into hollowness. What happens next, she does not recall, only that by the time she leaves the nursery she has decided she will never show her face again; she keeps it covered by the old blue baby-blanket Nanny has been urging her to discard.

It is her Grandmother she runs into first, who immediately demands, "Edith dear take contraption that off at once. You'll go blind!" Through a moth-eaten hole in the blanket, Edith, unmoving, watches her Grandmother bang her ornate cane indigently on the floor. Violet is not used to being ignored. Knowing she is not to disrespect her elders, Edith scuttles away before having to obey.

When she runs into her sisters again, Sybil is frightened and begins to cry, but Mary simply scoffs, "Oh Edith, must you always be so dramatic?"

Papa is away on business; Nanny's efforts to remove the mask are futile, as each time she separates Edith from the blanket, Edith manages to gain it back. Finally, it is Mama who forces Edith to show her face again. "Now Edith, you are my pretty little girl and you will take that off at once. I will not have you hiding your face away!"

Edith does not believe her mother, not then and certainly not now. She does not believe anyone who tells her she is pretty. She keeps waiting for someone to call her beautiful but they seem to prefer "pretty" or "gentle." She was not allowed the blanket back, but it hasn't mattered. The incident in the mirror was only the first in a long series of losses.

* * *

Hello everyone, thanks for reading! I'm keeping this short but have plans to continue if readers are interested. Leave me a comment or review and let me know. :)


	2. Chapter 2

This morning, Mrs. Patmore walks into the kitchen to find Daisy asleep face-down in a bowl of unfinished custard. Hesitating in the doorway, the cook grows ruddier as she attempts to comprehend what she is seeing. It's hardly believable! Gathering herself together with vegence, she reaches onto the counter for the nearest available pot and wooden spoon and proceeds to bang these without mercy next to the sleeping Daisy's exposed right ear.

Daisy wakes with a start, flinging custard to the floor, but Mrs. Patmore does not cease the racket.

Wiping batter from her face with the sleeve of her dress, Daisy moans. "Alright, alright I'm going," Mrs. Patmore gives a few more cursory bangs on the pot, then drops it loudly in the sink before throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Third time this week, Daisy, if only Mr. Carson could see you! And the state of you!"

Daisy has begun to absent-mindedly scrub the floor of the mess she has made, tuning out the ramblings of her superior. It's not her fault she's so tired! If only she wasn't made to wake so early, she just knows she'd be a much better worker. But oh no, it's up at the crack of dawn, scrubbing this and preparing that - she tries not to let Mrs. Patmore see her rolling her eyes but …

"Oh Ho, don't you roll your eyes at me Miss Calamity! You should be so lucky to have this job, especially after today! Falling asleep in perfectly good food…I've never. You'll remake that custard and do it well! And I'll be checking to see just how well it's done, mark my words!"

Ten minutes later Mrs. Patmore finally storms out of the kitchen and Daisy is left with a moment's silence. Tearfully, she begins re-assembling the ingredients for the brand-new custard though she can't help slamming the jars down a little too forcefully. If only there were some way to stay awake, it would be ever so nice …

Thomas is next into the kitchen. Without saying a word, he helps himself to a bit of cooking sherry before Daisy slaps his hand away. "Thomas, if Mrs. Patmore catches me doing one more wrong thing today I'll be out of a job!"

Thomas scoffs, "Don't be such a cow, Daisy." He is almost to the door before he pauses. Daisy, who is now stirring vigorously, pretends not to notice. But the footman is not finished. "You look like a right hag Daisy, if I didn't know better I'd say you'd been rolling around in the hay all night instead of sleeping."

"Thomas!" Daisy is genuinely horrified. "I'm just tired is all." Thomas places a cigarette in his mouth but does not light it. He says, "If you weren't so rude, I might want to help you with that."

Incredulous, daisy pauses. "Since when have _you _wanted to help _anyone?_"

Thomas simply shrugs. "Don't come crying to me when you're out of a job because you can't handle the work." He turns to go, and Daisy has almost resolved to ignore his leaving, relieved, but something stops her. "Well go on, tell me then," she says, just as Thomas reaches the hall.

Thomas pauses without turning; when he faces Daisy again, his expression is alive with its own devious brand of satisfaction.

"Meet me outside at twelve, I've got something that should wake you up," he says, "I'll not give it to you until you've brought me 20 quid, and don't be late."

Long after Thomas' departure, Daisy stands poised in confusion, leaning over the still unfinished custard and is only shaken out of her reverie when some minutes later, Mrs. Patmore rambles into the kitchen and begins to yell. "You've barely gotten started Daisy!"

"Don't have a fit" Daisy says somewhat sarcastically in response, but her mind is still heavily occupied with the words of Thomas.

Yesterday afternoon seemed to pass in blur for Daisy, the day as a whole divided into two halves - the drudgery of the morning, in attempting not to fall asleep, and the later half of the day, in the hours after Thomas had followed through with this promise. It all went down much simpler than Daisy had supposed it would. There were none of Thomas' usual games. The exchange of goods was done and over within moments; as the twenty quid was passed to Thomas, something slight dropped into the pocket of Daisy's apron. Daisy thought she might have heard Thomas say "Don't be hasty with it," though she couldn't be sure and by then, it seemed, the moment had passed between them.

When Daisy next examines the package, it is well past midnight. She makes sure Ivy is sleeping deeply before lighting a candle and drawing its light over the tiny paper package, which she unties hastily. Peering into the bag, she discovers a small pile of gritty white substance - almost the colour and consistency of ash. Thomas gave no instructions as to how one should consume the powder, nor what exactly it did, apart from giving one energy. Daisy is still peering into the paper bag when Ivy shouts in her sleep - a regular occurrence but one that, at this moment, frightens Daisy into hastily closing the package and shoving it into the pocket of her apron, hidden in the drawer beside the bed. She is no longer sure that the space under the mattress is safe anymore - indeed, upon reflection it seems much too obvious.

The following morning, Daisy wakes to the shriek of the alarm and after shaking off the feeling of sleep, immediately wishes she had a chance to try Thomas' remedy. Every bone in her body wishes for more rest; she thinks she'll take it into the toilet with her and swallow it there, but paranoia prevents her from doing any such thing. Instead, she goes about her duties with the packet hidden firmly in the pocket of her apron, where she hid it last night.

"Alright Daisy?" says Ivy cheerily, already dressed, "you seem nervous." Daisy feels herself go cold. "No I don't! And anyway it's none of your business what I look like," she snaps, a little too quickly, and leaves Ivy staring in the room.

Daisy has been tasked with sweeping the chimney in Lady Edith's room, a place she doesn't enjoy visiting. Frankly, the rooms most occupied by the middle Crawley sister have an air of bleakness about them; this makes enough sense to Daisy - Edith is a bit of a drag. She doesn't have the secretive, intriguing beauty of Lady Mary nor the rebellious streak of Sybil.

Soon Daisy, feeling very sorry for herself for having to clean up after such an unfortunate soul as Lady Edith, forgets entirely about the package in her pocket. In the process of sweeping the chimney, she does notice it has fallen out of her pocket and slid under Edith's bed. Hearing the clang, clang of Mrs. Hughes' keys in the hall, Daisy, knowing she must hurry, clears out of the room, accidentally leaving the little package behind.


	3. Chapter 3

There had been quick and furious love-making, constricted to the backseat of his car; it was new and the smell of leather permeated her every memory, combined with the vision of his aged but firm muscles against the untouched whiteness of her skin … when she thought of this, it was with a mixture of shock, shame, delight and later, horror at what would follow. The moment when standing at the alter he looked into her eyes; she could tell something wasn't right - where there had once been light there was only a dark and ambiguous animosity. He thought her to be easy; dirty even. She shuddered remembering the passion and the pain, intertwined so inextricably as they now were.

* * *

She's sitting at her vanity with the bedroom door locked. So this is the end. Outside is the most perfect of summer days, the sky stretching on flat and clear forever. It's not such a bad day to die; it is on days like these that heaven seems so much closer, and not such an enigma. Though she isn't sure if she believes in heaven, her mind is made up regardless - she is going to die today.

Edith has arranged pen and paper, her final thoughts emerging easier than anything she has ever tried to accomplish in her short life.

Dearest Family,

I am afraid by the time you have found this letter, I will be gone. I am so very sorry to be the cause of your grief; still, the sorrow of my burden to you in life is so much greater, thus I cannot claim to regret my choice.

Yours always,

Edith

She lets the ink dry for a brief moment before sealing and closing the letter. There is little left to contemplate and nothing standing in her way. She lays the letter on the vanity once more and opens the window sash. She takes a deep breath and prepares to jump (her method is not without vengeance. She can see Mary and Matthew on the front-lawn and knows they will be the first to witness all the gory details of her death). She does rather like Matthew but it stings to remember that he, like everyone else, rejected her for Mary.

Just then, a strong gust of wind slams the window down hard on Edith's hand; to stop from screaming, she shoves a fist into her mouth; the letter has fluttered off the desk and under the bed, and already Edith feels that she has failed at even this, her own suicide.

She'll get the letter, put it back and continue on. She'll die today, she's decided. There's no going back. But just as she reaches to retrieve the envelope with her one good hand, she notices a brown paper package lying like a tiny stranded angel under the bed, in the furthest corner where the sort of dust not allowed in this house would gather in another life. What is it and how did it get there? These are her first thoughts, but for a while she lies very still on the floor, just watching without reaching for it.

Her life is not full of mystery and intrigue; rather, the uniformity of her days is only broken up by tragic failures. And so, after contemplating, she reaches for the bag and takes it onto the bed, untying its string. Inside is a funny white powder that she pours into her open hand; it is gritty. She has forgotten about the window and the note and death all together and is entirely preoccupied now.

She guesses it must have been left behind by one of the maids, and though she isn't certain, she thinks she knows what it is. Not so long ago, there was a man in the village who tried to sell something like this to her; she wouldn't take it because back then there was hope - the hope of Anthony and a future, and she had threatened to report the man to the police if he didn't leave her alone. But now she is in a very different state, a much worse state, and she has nothing to lose at all.

* * *

She has never felt so alive. Happiness surges every atom of her being. She catches a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror. The dour stranger that gloweres back at her is gone; the sharp features are clever, the eyes holding back tantalizing secrets. Her hair is the colour of a flower in early bloom; she is in love with the girl staring back at her.

"I AM EDITH CRAWLY AND I AM IMPORTANT," she screams into the empty room. She takes the suicide note and tears it up, never believing she could have contemplated ending such a beautiful life. Her heart is pounding in her chest, a little too fast, and when she looks down it appears her feet are floating just slightly off the floor, yet this helps her move that much faster, as if she possesses a supernatural gift. Part of her knows she is standing solidly on the ground, but the high has entirely removed the need for logic.

She feels another surge of energy; she needs to leave this room; the walls are closing in on her and she needs space to exert of all of this etherial power she has been given. Hiding the remaining powder under a loose floorboard, she hurtles into the empty hall (almost everyone is outside due to the warm weather). Edith is fearless and for the first time in her life, endowed with a childish desire for adventure. There is of course, no premonition in this moment that anything should go wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

It's gone, all gone. It isn't where she put it; she searches frantically, as that ragged hole inside of her gets deeper; the drug was a fist she staunched the bleeding inside, the first of its kind. Now what will she do? Her bedroom is a mess of upturned drawers, sheets on the floor. And she is back to losing, the pain creeping back like tall, dark shadows. Her saviour gone and feelings creep in, suffocating vines without mercy.

The razor blade glints in the setting autumn sun. In the courtyard, they are coming to get her. She can see the men in medical coats, their faces white circles that convey nothing; she has to hurry. They will take her away and she will never see the light of day and it is better to die on her own terms than to to die by fading away.

But she didn't even know they knew … she was too far-gone to notice the subtlest changes in their demeanours and the way they said too times, "Are you quite alright Edith?" as she fell deeper and deeper into the abyss of her own mind.

Daisy knew the package from Thomas was missing, but the weeks passed and it was if she had never obtained it in the first place. But just when it seemed things were secure, there was Edith floating down the halls like a spectre with her pupils the size of dinner-plates, before she began to hear the question from everyone, "What was wrong with Lady Edith?" And she knew it was her fault, a blame that seemed to seize up inside of her until she was not sure she could quite breathe, because she knew the dire mistake she had made. She left the package in Edith's room, albeit, unintentionally, but still. Edith was sad and desperate and ready to take chances.

So Daisy makes the only decision she knows may save the life of the girl upstairs, who she has never known beyond a searing pity. She finds Lord Grantham in the library, and in his presence she feels small and silly and perhaps even inconsequential. She knows she only has a short time and needs to be concise. This is her once chance.

She leaves out the fact that the drugs were hers; and although Lord Grantham has turned very pale, Daisy has been set free. Tonight she will sleep without guilt.

Edith couldn't do it; she couldn't bring the blade to her wrist, and unable to die, she was left to shiver, frightened, a coward, as the men in the white coats stormed up the stairs. She did not put up a fight and they took her away by the elbows; downstairs, her mother was crying and her father was stony-faced but there was pain, she could see it. Mary showed little emotion and Matthew nodded in her direction, as if in conciliation. Dear Sybil would have been kind, but she, like everything else important in Edith's life was lost, sacrificed to the great unknown.

Edith looks into each of their faces, before the men guide her through the great front doors, and toward a life she cannot conceive of.


End file.
